


little victories

by willalwaysbeyou



Series: sparks [5]
Category: GOT7
Genre: I don't really know what to tag, M/M, i didnt plan this, this is what markson wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willalwaysbeyou/pseuds/willalwaysbeyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thank you LA for giving us Mark.”</p><p>Mark stills just for the tiniest bit, his breath stopping short, in shock from what he just heard, and he forces himself not to react. He feels his emotions bubble up from the pits of his stomach and he knows sooner or later, it will make its way up his throat and eyes if he allows himself to entertain the thought even just a fraction of a second longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little victories

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration from here: [click](https://twitter.com/CHKUNMOD/status/773923097783205888)

“Thank you LA for giving us Mark.”

Mark stills just for the tiniest bit, his breath stopping short, in shock from what he just heard, and he forces himself not to react. He feels his emotions bubble up from the pits of his stomach and he knows sooner or later, it will make its way up his throat and eyes if he allows himself to entertain the thought even just a fraction of a second longer.

The crowd scream and cheer, and on auto-pilot, Mark finds himself clapping along, nodding his head, as if Jackson was talking about an entirely different person, talking about someone that isn't him. Against his better judgement, his head snaps to look at Jackson on his right and sees the younger boy, his eyes hidden by the black cap he's wearing, repeating himself to the home crowd and Mark feels the swell come up his throat.

He tears his eyes away right as he sees Jackson turn to him.

“Thank _you_.”

Mark feels Jackson’s eyes on him, even when his own eyes are on the stage floor. He knows the whole hall is looking at him, waiting for his reaction from Jackson’s one sentence. But having Jackson’s eyes on him is different. It holds a certain weight, laden with unspoken words, both by choice and circumstances. Jackson’s eyes are heavy on Mark and he feels his breath coming up short. He feels squirmish under Jackson’s gaze and wants to look into Jackson’s eyes but he knows that it’s for best that he doesn't.

He tells himself to stay still just another second longer; knowing very well that Jackson will have to move on and end his speech. He hears Jackson continue addressing the crowd and immediately feels lighter with the knowledge that Jackson’s eyes is no longer on him. The thousand pairs of eyes in the hall are probably still on him though, and naturally that should have just as much of an impact as having Jackson’s eyes on him, if not more, but it doesn't.

Not in the slightest bit.

  
  


Mark knocks on the door of the room before him and waits with a slightly labored breath, not entirely sure what he is doing, or what he is planning to do when the door opens. He had walked over without a plan and there he is, standing in front of the room shared between BamBam and Jackson, without so much as a legitimate reason as to why he is there at 2am in the morning.

Luckily for Mark, the nature of their lifestyle is such that late nights and random visits to each other’s rooms are norms. BamBam opens the door, and a slightly quizzical look shows on his face but he says nothing as he pulls the door open further, allowing Mark to walk in. Mark walks in, a little hesitatingly, still unsure of what he is doing, only knowing that he had walked over because he _felt like it_ . Mark hears the door close behind him and he turns, finding BamBam gone. BamBam has always been the most perceptive out of the seven of them, knowing very well what each member needed or wanted before they even realised it for themselves. Seeing how BamBam had left the room, Mark decides this is actually what he wants, _needs_  - time alone with Jackson -  even if he didn’t know it just two seconds ago.

“Who's that Bam? Tell them to buzz off, I want to sleep.”

Jackson half-yells, half-drawls from further in the room. Mark can't see Jackson from where he is standing and he knows Jackson can't tell he’s there too. Mark shivers just a little, his hoodie doing little to counter the chill of the night and the strong air conditioner blasting in the room.

Mark takes little steps, one calculated step at a time, towards Jackson. He finally sees Jackson, hair tousled, eyes closed, arms spread open, his legs hanging off his bed. Mark pauses in his tracks, taking in the sight of Jackson just peacefully lying on his bed and feels longing build up in his heart. Mark closes the distance between them, gently lowering himself on Jackson’s bed and places his head on Jackson’s arm, putting a little distance between their bodies. He turns on his side so that he’s facing Jackson and stares directly at Jackson’s face. He watches as Jackson opens one of his eyes lazily as he turns his head towards Mark, then looking at Mark with a steady gaze, his eyes not registering any shock at seeing Mark in his room, in his bed, in his _arm_. Jackson closes his eye and turns his head away, back to where it was and the room stills.  Mark feels the walls closing in on him, and he starts feeling light-headed, the dim lights in the room suddenly too bright for him, the cool air in the room begin biting away at his skin.

Mark finds himself being pulled closer to Jackson, feels Jackson’s fingers steady and solid on his shoulders, holding him in place, the warmth of Jackson’s fingers burning through his hoodie and straight onto his skin. Mark snuggles in further, taking advantage of Jackson’s little opening, chasing the warmth that Jackson emits, and Jackson lets him be. Mark bites down on his lip, having a little fight with himself on how far he can go, is _allowed_ to go and he finally decides to hell with it all as he drapes an arm over Jackson’s torso.

Mark looks up to Jackson from under his eyelashes. The younger one doesn't move, still doesn't open his eyes and Mark starts feeling a little greedy. He moves in even closer, not that there is even any space left between them, and places his head on Jackson’s shoulder, tightening his arm around Jackson’s torso.

With his new position, Jackson’s arm drop away from his shoulder and Mark feels a little loss. Still, Jackson has yet to push him away, so Mark stays, his fingers clinging on tightly to the wifebeater Jackson is wearing.

“You didn't have to do that. My parents are okay, they don't worry as much anymore. You didn't have to do that.”

After the concert, Mark had blew quick kisses to his family members and friends, lying through his teeth about how spent he was and how he just wanted to retire to his room. He had even skipped out on the group dinner, preferring to stay in the room he shared with Yugyeom, Jackson’s words ringing over and over in his head. He sounded so close, like he was whispering in Mark’s ears, the words _thank you_ again and again.

Mark’s brain came up with a reasonable explanation, _one that probably isn't that far from the real truth_ , his brain argues. Jackson said the things he said because he wants to ease the worries he knows Mark’s parents have. Jackson is merely returning the favour because Mark had assured his mother in Shanghai that Jackson is in good hands with him, that she does not need to worry.

Yes, that is all Jackson is doing; he doesn't have any other intention apart from setting Mark’s parents’ hearts at ease.

Mark’s train of thoughts are cut short as Jackson speaks up.

“What I said was not meant for anyone else. It was for you, it was said _to you_.”

Mark’s eyes grow wide open at Jackson’s response. Jackson opens his eyes and looks down at Mark with an indescribable look, and Mark’s question dies on his lips. Jackson’s arm that held Mark’s shoulder is now curling around Mark’s back, his fingers resting on Mark’s waist.

It hurts. Mark’s heart is physically hurting, the little squeeze he feels in that organ is making tears up come to his eyes and he wants to get up and walk away but the way he is lying in Jackson’s arm feels so right. Jackson's arm is so possessive around him, holding him like a prized gift and Mark feels appreciated, he feels wanted. If he is only going to get one night of this and a thousand nights of crying into his pillow, one night of Jackson holding him and a thousand nights of _imagining_ Jackson holding him, he will take it.

Mark closes his eyes, not allowing the tears to fall out, refusing to taint this one and only memory he will get. Jackson’s fingers ghost lightly over his eyelashes, and he feels Jackson wipe away his tears gently. Mark opens his eyes slowly, and Jackson is looking straight at him. Jackson smiles sadly down at Mark as he continue wiping the tears away tenderly and Mark quivers under Jackson’s touch.

“You really have no idea half the things you say to me when you're asleep, do you, Tuan Yien?”

Mark looks up at Jackson, hears loud and clear the regret and sadness in his voice, but not understanding what Jackson is saying. He opens his mouth to ask but Jackson quickly touches Mark’s lips with his fingers and Mark allows his lips to shut. Jackson’s fingers continue to trail all of Mark’s features on his face, every touch burning straight to Mark’s heart, every touch ruining him for anyone else.

Jackson moves his fingers tenderly to Mark’s eyelids, pushing them gently shut. Mark can no longer see but he feels every movement Jackson makes. Jackson turns his body to face Mark and pulls Mark’s arm that was draping his torso further down to snake around his back. Jackson moves closer to Mark, his arm gripping Mark tighter. His other hand that was touching Mark’s face is now stroking Mark’s arm, making Mark’s goosebumps stand.

Jackson places a kiss on Mark’s forehead and it’s taking everything Mark has not to cry. He feels his legs grow weak and if Jackson is to send him back to his room now, he sees himself begging and crying for Jackson to let him stay. Jackson pulls back after a long while, Mark’s forehead feeling exceptionally cold without Jackson’s warm lips, and he feels Jackson’s kisses trail down to his eyes. Jackson pecks each of Mark’s eyelids and he hears Jackson take in a sharp, shaky breath.

He feels Jackson breaking under his touch too, the same way he's been breaking, the sturdy and strong body quivering under his arm.

 

“Don't cry anymore.”

 

“How do I wipe your tears away when I'm the one making you cry?”

 

“Please don't cry anymore.”

 

Mark bites his tongue, distracting himself with a different kind of pain, willing himself to ignore the throb in his chest. Jackson pulls Mark even closer, almost a little desperately, and Mark is so close that his lips are brushing against Jackson’s Adam’s apple.

“Go to sleep, Mark.”

It takes a while before Mark finds his courage and he leans in just slightly, kissing Jackson’s neck. He slides his palm up and let it settle above Jackson’s heart, and he hears Jackson let out a long, deep breath.

Mark doesn't know how much time has passed since BamBam left them alone, but he knows he's beginning to fall asleep in Jackson’s arms and Jackson has not told him to leave. _Yet_.

Little victories.

**Author's Note:**

> So, like you probably, I have zero idea what is going on between them in this one-shot. I started this thing thinking of a lightweight fluffy piece, ending with Markson out for a bbq date (as they actually had one irl) but then this happened and Jackson and Mark have lives of their own in this oneshot and decided this is what they wanted. I think Jackson knows a little more than Mark does, and I'm the only one who doesn't know what the hell actually went down between them but I guess maybe one day Jackson might speak up and we could possibly have another fic addressing this shit, ha. 
> 
> Also, I don't tend to write meek!Mark since he's anything but. But I guess even an alpha male would have his tender raw moments after getting a ~~love~~ thank you confession from this _other_ person on stage, in front of thousands of people. 
> 
> Well, so yes, this is it, I guess? :) Hee, let me know if you like it (or if you're as confused as I am.)


End file.
